I’ll never forget the drive up to Aberystwyth last month – me behind the wheel, the kids bickering in the back about who got the last Haribo, and the satnav deciding to have a mid-journey meltdown just as we hit the A44. We ended up taking a daft detour through some winding lanes near Devil’s Bridge, with sheep eyeing us suspiciously from the verges. By the time we rolled into town, I was knackered, but spotting the South Beach sign lifted everyone’s spirits. That anticipation built as we parked right outside – no faffing about with narrow drives or anything – and we practically tumbled out, bags flying everywhere, buzzing to see what awaited.

Stepping inside this ground-floor apartment felt like a proper treat straight away. It’s just a stone’s throw from the beach, and the first thing that hit us was the massive bay window in the sitting room framing those sea views – waves crashing, gulls wheeling about, the works. The place mixes cosy antique bits with modern touches, like the enormous Smart TV that had the boys glued to some footie highlights before we’d even unpacked. Armchairs begging you to flop down, sofas perfect for sprawling – it screamed relaxed family haven, especially welcoming for our gran who joined us and hates stairs.

We settled in quick, cracking open a brew and letting the dog (one well-behaved spaniel, mind – the other one’s a cheeky terror we left at home) sniff every corner. First morning, we wandered down to South Beach, just a two-minute amble, building sandcastles that promptly got swamped by the tide while I pretended to be a pro architect. Lunch was fish and chips from a spot on the promenade – greasy, salty perfection wrapped in paper, eaten on a bench with sand in our socks. Afternoon? A gentle stroll along the front to Constitution Hill – we skipped the funicular this time, opting for the cliff path with its wildflowers and sneaky ice cream van at the top. The views back over the bay were mint, wind in our hair, kids charging ahead like feral goats.

Evenings were pure bliss: firing up the Smart TV for a family film night, cups of tea in hand, while the sea murmured outside. One night, chaos ensued when the dog decided the antique side table was his new chew toy – cue me on my hands and knees with a tea towel, reflecting on how I’m basically just a grown-up kid herding mini-mes and mutts through life’s little disasters. It’s those cottage-style mishaps that make it, isn’t it? No grand plans, just simple joys – paddling in rock pools at low tide, spotting seals off Clarach Beach (a quick bus ride away), or burning bangers on the hob because who needs Michelin stars on holiday?

We left with full bellies, sandy shoes, and that warm glow of a proper family reset. North Wales does it right – unpretentious, breathtaking, and just chaotic enough to keep you grinning. Can’t wait to go back.